


Exposed

by WritingPains



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, BAMF Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, F/M, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Kid Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker-centric, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Harley Keener, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingPains/pseuds/WritingPains
Summary: Tony lives.Peter is homeless.Time to bring the gang back.What's left of them anyway.





	1. Choosing life

Peter curls into himself, the cold seeping through his foil blanket. The wind whistles through the underground parking lot, lifting stray trash from the ground and swirling it through the air.  
The floor beneath him is hard and covered in filth, but it’s the best place he’s slept in months. The night before last he was under the bridge, the stench of dead fish and stale urine pungent in the air and the noise from the overpass rumbling through the ground, making it impossible to sleep. Last week he was sleeping in the doorway of a derelict building, and some entitled ass had kicked him in the ribs. He was still recovering from that.

  
Homelessness is what it’s cracked up to be, and so much more. So much worse. Harder than anything Peter has ever had to do, and it’s all because of The Daily Bugle thinking they could put his face on the news and declare him ‘Spider-Man’. He hates that the public opinion changed so quickly, turning him into a monster and ignoring all the good he’s done for them. He’s never been Spider-Man for the sake of gratitude, but he hates being hated.

  
Peter hasn’t known what to do with himself since. What do you do when your secret identity is taken away and the world turns against you? He never even got to graduate. Never got to have a real date with MJ. He’s had everything good about his life stolen away.

  
Aunt May has been worrying about him since he disappeared. He hasn’t spoken to her, but he sees text messages and missed calls every time he’s able to charge his phone. He never replies, doing so would only bring trouble to her front door, and she doesn’t deserve that. Besides, Peter knows she’s got Happy to keep her occupied.

  
No one needs Peter anymore, and they’ve made it impossible for Spider-Man to exist.

  
So now Peter is just ‘Kid’ to most of the homeless community, and ‘bum’ to the rest of the city.

  
Unable to grow a beard just yet, Peter had worried that people would be able to recognise him easily. He didn’t speak to anyone for the first three months on the streets, but he learnt that if you look dirty enough people won’t even look you in the eye, let alone recognise you. They fear that eye contact will result in Peter following them around for scraps, like a stray dog.

  
But he doesn’t, and he hasn’t. He’s not exactly surviving, but he’s alive, and that’s about as much as he can hope for in this circumstance. 

  
Everything is going— well, not alright, but it’s going — until it’s not.

  
“Peter?”

  
Peter freezes. The voice sounds so damn familiar, so heart wrenchingly unreal that tears spring to his eyes and he tightens his hold on himself. 

  
It wouldn’t be the first time someone living in the streets has lost their sanity. The separation one learns to feel from the rest of society is damaging beyond all concepts, and the disgust and vitriol thrown his way on a regular basis is enough to turn even the most stable person towards the darkness of a severe mental illness.

  
So, Peter assumes that he’s reached that point. He’d hoped that he would have had more time, time enough to regain himself and go on with his life when he grew out of his youthful, and defining, features. But alas. He’s not. And he’s hearing Tony Stark’s voice in his head.

  
“Peter, is that you?”

  
Closer, this time. Far too much clarity. Much too real.

  
“Peter, please turn around.”

  
Swallowing his pride, because he knows listening to the voices in his head is the first step to being controlled by them, he sits up and turns to face Tony Stark.

  
Tony Stark, who has been dead for a year and a half. Tony Stark, who’s being remembered around the world as a hero.

  
“Crap, kid, you look like the world ate you and spat you back out.”

  
Tony’s chuckle is forced and uncomfortable, and Peter wonders why his first visual hallucination would be Mr Stark and not his Uncle.

  
“I probably have some explaining to do, but can we not do that down here? I’m not being exactly forthcoming about the fact that I’m alive, so I’d rather be away from where someone can see me.”

  
Peter just stares, and Mr Stark swallows.

  
“I’m sorry kid, this is probably a bit of a shock.”

  
“A bit?” Peter laughs.

  
Mr Stark flinches at the sound.

  
“Maybe a lot. In my defence, I had no idea I wasn’t dead until yesterday. I came to find you, but then… well, your Aunt is very worried, you know that, right? She’s going out of her mind, and on top of that she’s trying to convince the world that what that idiot ‘Mysterio’,” – Mr Stark spits the name – “said was a bold-faced lie, but it’s hard to do with you hiding away. Please.”

  
Peter is starting to realise that Mr Stark isn’t a figment of his imagination, but a real person, genuinely alive and right there.

  
“Mr Stark,” Peter croaks.

  
“Please call me Tony,” the man opines.

  
That’s all Peter needs to rush from his little cocoon and throw himself at Mr Stark. He knows he must stink, he knows that beneath his clothes he’s little more than skin, bone and stubborn muscle, but he holds Mr Stark like he’s the last lifeline. 

  
“I’m so sorry, kid. I should… I don’t know. I was dead. I didn’t have much room to do anything at all, but I should have set up contingencies.” 

  
Peter doesn’t respond with words, he simply holds Mr Stark ever tighter.

  
“Let’s get you home.”

  
Peter barely registers as Mr Stark leads him towards the car. He’s shocked out of his retreat into his mind when another set of larger arms wrap themselves around him.

  
“Peter, you brat,” Happy sobs.

  
Peter breaks then. He starts to cry, and he can’t hear anything or anyone. He doesn’t register that he’s being loaded into the car, or that Aunt May is being called and told to meet them at the compound. They park in the garage and climb out of the car.

  
“You should shower,” Mr Stark says when they get inside. “There are some clothes in the spare room for you and—”

  
“Anthony bloody Stark, what did I say about leaving the compound without letting us know first?”

  
The harsh, sharp admonishment from James Rhodes causes Tony to pull a face and back up a little.

  
“Hey, Rhodey, dearest, I was just…”

  
“I don’t care. I told you to rest, not to go gallivanting around New York.”

  
“I was looking for the kid. Look! I found him!”

  
Rhodey appears to deflate at the sight of Peter, pity replacing his righteous anger.

  
“Peter, you’ve given everyone quite the fright.”

  
“More or less frightening than finding Mr Stark alive after a year and a half?”

  
Rhodey snorts and shakes his head.

  
“Go shower. Tony and I have things to discuss, such as telling someone when he decides to leave.”

  
“I’m not a child, Rhodey. I can still do what I want.”

  
“First of all, you act like a child. Second of all, after what the belated extremis reaction did to your body, you might as well be a child, and third, you cannot do what you want. We’ve been without you for a year and a half. We need to know everything you’re doing. Do that for us.”

  
Peter figures it’s time to check out of the conversation, because suddenly things are not making much sense at all. He rushes to the guest room and showers. It’s been so long that he flounders for a moment, before remembering what he’s supposed to do. He lathers the shampoo in his hair and drags a sponge filled with soap across his filthy body. He doesn’t let an inch of his body go untouched.

  
There’s something horrifying and satisfying about seeing months and months of grime circling the drain and disappearing. It’s like a right of passage to being allowed to be human again.

Peter stays in the shower for a long time, scrubbing his skin harshly. He then attacks his hair with a pair of scissors so that he no longer looks like Bucky Barnes. After a while, he feels almost normal again, even if the tiredness around his eyes and the darkness lurking at the back of his mind is something that he simply can’t ignore.

  
He pulls on the first set of clean clothing he’s seen since he left his aunts house, and he sighs. He’s not entirely sure he deserves it, but he has to take everything one step at a time. His brain is a mess of emotions right now, and if he tries to parse through and organise everything, he’ll probably drop dead of an aneurysm. He needs to be slow. Take things as they are.

  
Peter makes his way back to where he left Mr Stark and Rhodey and frowns as his eyes take in the scene before him. Mr Stark is sat on the sofa with his face in his hands while Rhodey stands over him, frowning.

  
“I can’t believe you died and haven’t yet got it through your thick skull that people care for you,” Rhodey says. 

  
“It’s not like I spent the entire time in therapy, you moody bastard. I was dead. I wasn’t awake, I wasn’t conscious for anything. I’m exactly the same person I was before I died.”

  
“Except you’re not.”

  
“No. I guess not.”

  
Mr Stark lifts his head, and Peter gasps.  
He’s not sure how he failed to notice it before, but Mr Stark died in his early fifties, but you wouldn’t know that from how he looks now. The man appears to be in his teen years.

  
“Mr Stark,” Peter says.

  
Tony startles, jumping up from the sofa and turning his back on Rhodey, who looks anything but finished with that particular lecture.

  
“Putting a pin in it, Tones,” Rhodey says before turning to leave.

  
Tony rolls his eyes in a way that makes him look even younger, and Peter can’t help but gape at the man. 

  
“What happened?”

  
“Straight to the hard hitting questions, I respect that.”

  
Tony grins, wide and sharp, and gestures for Peter to follow him through the building. Tony leads him into a kitchen and places a platter of sandwiches in front of him.

  
“Don’t worry about those. Pep had them sent over, since she knows I can’t cook and that I tend to forget to eat sometimes.”

  
Tony pours himself a large mug of coffee, and Peter watches, waiting for some sort of reason that makes sense of the fact that Tony appears to be his age.

  
“You’re curious about why I look like I should be drinking keggers and flunking my high school exams?”

  
“Didn’t you go to MIT at fourteen?” 

  
“Not the point, but I appreciate your dedication to the study of me.” 

  
Peter takes a sandwich because he suddenly needs something to do with his hands, and the moment it touches his tongue, he realises he’s ravenous. He tries to pace himself, not wanting to look like an animal in front of Mr Stark, but the man appears distracted, eyes glazed over, mouth taught in thought.

  
“Mr Stark?”

  
“Please call me Tony,” he sighs.

  
Peter removes the ability to reply by quickly shoving another sandwich in his mouth. Mr Stark shakes his head but prepares to start talking. Peter settles in, knowing whatever he says, it’s going to be a big deal.

  
“So, you know how I had extremis injected in me when I got my reactor removed?” Tony waits for Peter to nod before moving on. “Well, it turns out the stuff never truly left my system, and it’s just been dormant, pretty much. Because of this, it took a while to reactivate, since it needed quite the kicker to get it going.

  
“Well, obviously, dying was all the encouragement it needed. It healed all the damage to my body, and in doing that, it took a few years off my face too, which is why I look so sprightly and considerably more attractive than before. Which is saying something, cause I have a face that everyone’s mother loves.

  
“Anyway, it also opens up a whole can of issues, because I’m supposed to be dead, and I don’t want people to think there’s been a sudden zombie outbreak. When I learned what had transpired in my absence, I had to find you. Rhodey and Pepper have teamed up to try and keep me locked inside like I’ve been grounded or something, but something is going to go down. Call it intuition, or call it a Peter Tingle,” Peter groans in horror, “but something is going to happen, and we need to be a united front on this.”

  
“Apologies for the interruption, boss, but Mrs Parker is here.”

  
Peter jumps up, looking at Tony in panic. He doesn’t know how to handle this. He left May alone because he didn’t want her to get caught up in all that mess. He’s not entirely sure that she’s safe being in her presence at all, and there isn’t a doubt in his mind that she’s going to be furious at him.

  
“Peter Parker.”

  
Peter freezes and pushes down the desire to run and hide somewhere. He can’t deal with this. Everything is happening too quick, and it’s hard to figure out exactly what he needs to do in order to cope.

  
“Don’t worry kid, I got your back.”

  
Peter feels no better from this promise, especially because when May comes storming into the kitchen, Tony actually squeaks and ducks away, throwing himself on the sofa a few feet away.

  
May looks wrecked. The bags under her eyes are dark and heavy, and she’s thinner than the last time he saw her. Her clothes aren’t her normal level of stylish, and her hair is pulled into hasty knot on the top of her head.

  
“Peter.”

  
Peter throws himself in her arms, and sobs. It hurts to see what he’s done to her and hurts even more to know that he’d been so selfish to not realise just how badly it was going to hit her. He doesn’t regret running away, but maybe a few letters here and there wouldn’t have gone amiss either.

  
“I’m so angry at you right now,” she whispers, still holding him close. “How could you do that? Where were you? You could have died, anything could have happened, and I’d never have known.”

  
“I’m sorry, May. I’m so sorry, but I didn’t want you to have to deal with the fallout. That man revealed my identity. If I’d stayed, you would have had to deal with everyone trying to find me and kill me or whatever. I wanted you to be safe.”

  
The arms around Peter tighten, and he pushes his face into her collarbone, trying his hardest to hold back the tears. God, he’s missed her so much. He’s missed Tony, he’s missed Happy, he’s missed everything about his life before his identity was offered to the world on a silver platter.

  
“I didn’t do it, May,” he promises, suddenly. “I didn’t hurt all those people.”

  
May laughs, though it’s a wet sound.

  
“Of course you didn’t. I know you would never. Obviously the man with the fishbowl head tampered with the footage. Don’t think for a second I even imagined you were capable of hurting innocent people.”

  
Peter sobs then, having not realised just how worried he was that May might have thought him a murderer. She holds him for a little longer, and then eventually pushes his away and wipes away his tears with her thumbs.

  
“Now, I feel like I need some kind of explanation. First and foremost, Mr Stark, why do you suddenly look like you’re about to use a fake ID to buy beer?”

  
Tony laughs, his teeth bared in humour. He signals for them to join him on the sofa and launches into an explanation.

He explains how Extremis was activated in his system, but that it took a while for it take complete his transformation. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t assume that May might not understand some of the most technical language he uses. She nods, and Tony hesitantly voices a theory that he’s back to protect the world from another threat.

  
“What kind of threat?”

  
“I’m still trying to figure out the extent of it, if I’m honest. It’s all just a feeling.”

  
“Like the Peter-tingle,” May offers.

  
“No,” Peter groans in embarrassment. “My spider-sense.”

  
Tony creases up, but spares Peter further mortification.

  
“Yeah, I’m getting that. I know something is coming, but I’m still trying to keep feelers out to discover the exact problem.”

  
“What do you think is the best way forward from here? For Peter?”

  
“Honestly, Mrs Parker, I think that maybe you should both consider moving in here for the time being. For your safety. If Peter is willing, I’d appreciate his help with this, but if either of you have reservations about it, that’s fine.”

  
May nods, and her fingers around Peter’s wrist tightens. He wishes he know how to comfort her, but he’s drowning in guilt and uncertainty right now. He left, not really considering just how badly she might suffer in his absence. Sure, not being at the house kept him out of her hair and in a way, helped her stay safe, but that knowledge didn’t stop her worry about him the entire time.

  
He thinks about the cold nights he spent on the street, wishing he was back in their living room watching TV and eating Pizza Rolls with May. He thinks about the rainy days when his clothes were damp and even his abilities didn’t stop him from falling ill. He’d cried as he thought about the way May would have brought him chicken soup and held him close as he complained about being sick. All those days spent in misery wishing selfishly that he had May with him were days that May wishes he was there too.

  
“Let’s talk about that tomorrow. I just want to spend time with my nephew and convince myself this isn’t another dream.”

~

Tony leaves Peter and Mrs May alone in the lounge. He feels as though he’s interrupting something just by existing in their space, so he wonders over to the kitchen area and sets about making a coffee. It’s late, well into the night now, but Tony knows he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight. He might as well try to alleviate some of the tiredness that comes with insomnia.

  
At least as he’s pottering around the room, he feels as though he’s doing something worthwhile, even if he knows that it’s ultimately inconsequential past the fact that he’ll be getting caffeine. Everything he’s doing seems that way, except for finding Peter.

~

When Tony wakes up, his first instinct is to go back to sleep. He is tired. His body aches. His mind swims with the residue of a long sleep, and he can’t think. It takes seconds for that drowsy feeling to die and be replaced with utter panic.

  
When his arm hits a wall, he rouses and then when he tries to sit up and finds another wall, he is wide awake and his heart is racing a mile a minute. He begs himself to not have a heart attack. He isn’t healthy enough to panic like that. He gathers enough coherent thoughts to free himself, which takes a lot of effort, and then stumbles around, before freezing when he catches sight of his headstone.

  
“I died?” he asks stupidly.

Here lies Anthony Edward Stark  
Husband, Father, Friend.  
Died saving the world.

Unsurprisingly, Tony is thrown, and he immediately stumbles his way back to the city. He steals a cap and sunglasses and finds his way to Stark Industries, where he tells the desk that he has an appointment with Pepper Potts.

  
That is a hassle in its own right because Eugenia refuses to let him go up or call Mrs Potts, staying that she is in a meeting. Fortunately, Happy is striding through the lobby at that moment.

“Happy?” 

Happy turns around, looking confused for a moment and then in a flash, he is lifting Tony from the ground in a bone crushing hug.

  
“I need to see Pep,” Tony explains.

  
“I’ve told him that she’s busy,” Eugenia explains looking concerned.

  
“It’s OK, Eugenia. He’s with me.”

  
Happy doesn’t take his hand from Tony’s shoulder the entire way up, every now and then flexing as if to ensure Tony is still there. Tony doesn’t mind. He needs to be reminded too.

  
“Happy, I’m kind of busy,” Pepper says tiredly.

  
“Not for this you’re not.”

  
Pepper looks up and sees Tony. She quickly ends her phone call and stands up.

  
“Tony?”

  
Her voice quivers with restrained hope and tears fill her eyes. She takes a single step forward and then Tony is throwing himself at her, enveloping her in an embrace that leaves them both crying into each other’s shoulders.

  
“How— whats the meaning of this?”

  
Tony explains what little he knows, which extends to ‘I woke up and broke out of the coffin’, and then he removes his hat and glasses.

  
“Tony!” Pepper cries out, a delicate hand reaching out to his face.

  
“Boss, you look… well…”

  
Tony grabs Peppers compact mirror from the desk and flips it open.

  
“Oh god, I’m filthy. I should probably shower.”

  
Pepper nods, stunned, and Tony rushes to the shower attached to the office, calling over his shoulder for a spare suit. He showers quickly, scrubbing the dirt from his skin and lathering shampoo into his hair.

  
Everything feels wrong, and it stretches far beyond the fact that he’s just woken up from being dead. He feels physically different. Is it possible that he’s shrunk? Does his skin feel smoother? His hair softer? What’s going on?

  
Wrapping a towel around his waist, Tony steps from the shower and uses his hand to wipe away the condensation on the window to reveal his face; except, it’s not his face from now. It’s his face from when he was a teenager.

  
“What the fuck,” he shouts at himself.

  
“I’d say he’s noticed now,” Tony hears Happy say in the office.

  
Tony rushes from the room and looks at them both frantically.

  
“What the fuck,” he whispers.

  
“Yeah. That’s pretty much how we feel.”

  
“Tony.”

  
Holding the towel against his modesty, he finds Rhodey stood in the doorway, looking stunned.

  
“You got here fast.”

  
“You tend to speed things up when you find out that your best friend, who’s been dead for a year and half, is alive.”

  
Tony chokes.

  
“A year?”

  
After Happy manages to usher him into some clothes, Tony is taken back to the compound, where he collapses into the sofa in confused exhaustion. Pepper, Happy and Rhodey talk over his head, but Tony lets himself sleep.

  
When he woke up a few hours later, it was to find his friends and wife still sat around him. He asks what’s he’s missed, and they launch into a long explanation of the events.

  
“What about Peter?” Tony asks Happy.

  
“Kid ran away from home, Tones.”

And that’s how he found himself here, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee clutched to his chest as he stares out of the window at the bright green trees swaying in the wind with the backdrop of night and the city sky line.

  
“Boss, something has happened that you might find particularly interesting,” Friday tells him.

  
Tony turns to find the TV showing the news.

  
“Crap.”


	2. Getting the team back together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team come back together.

Exposed Chapter 2

“Mr Stark, are you OK?”

Tony spins around on his heel to find Peter stood a few feet away, looking worried.

“Uh. Yeah. Well. No. But…”

“Tony, did you see the news?” Rhodey asks as he comes skidding in.

“Hammer got out,” Tony whispers.

“Yeah. Probably best to keep an eye out for that psycho. No idea how he managed it, but the bastard got parole. Fri, can you keep an eye on all his activity? Alert us if he tries anything?”

“Sure thing, Colonel.”

“In the meantime, can you please go to sleep, Tony?”

Tony glares at him, and inclines his head towards Peter, pleading for the man to not treat him like a child when there is an actual child around. Rhodey grins.

“If you don’t want to be mothered, then act like a damn adult and put _yourself_ to bed. Or so help me god, I’ll sic Pepper on you.”

Tony groans and puts his coffee mug in the sink.

“Fine. Peter, kid, go to your aunt. Friday will show you to your rooms. Get some rest. We’ll figure whatever needs to be figured out in the morning.”

“Yes, Mr Stark.”

“Tony,” Tony reminds him. “My name is Tony.”

“Technically, your name is also Mr Stank,” Rhodey laughs. “Get. Bed, now.”

Tony waves goodnight to Peter and Rhodey and heads to his room. After quickly showering and brushing his teeth, he climbs into bed and Friday turns the lights out.

“Turn them up. Just a bit.”

The room glows ever so slightly, and Tony doesn’t feel like he’s enclosed in a small space anymore. He curls into the duvet, missing the warmth of Pepper, and he closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him, but sceptical that it ever will.

“Tony, wake up,” Pepper urges, as she kneels by his bed.

“Nrgh.”

“Come on, I made coffee.”

Tony blinks and turns to face her. She smiles warmly at his, a soft hand caressing his cheek. Tony would give anything to just drag her into bed with him so that they could lay there together and let life and all its problems sly by, but he knows better.

Pepper is uncomfortable with how their relationship will hold up against the fact that he looks so young. Despite both of them knowing that he’s actually in his mid-fifties, he looks like a teenager and that simply won’t fly with her. He’s biologically closer to his daughter's age than he is hers.

“This sucks,” he groans.

“I know.” Her hand moves to take his. “I know, Tony, but there’s nothing to be done about it. We’ll figure it out, though, right? We’ve got this.”

Tony’s smile is harsh and fake, and Pepper knows.

“Come on. Food. Then we can make a plan.”

“Where is Morgan?”

“Happy is babysitting. He’s becoming quite the Uncle.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks as he sits up and rubs at his eyes. “Always knew the big softie had it in him.”

Tony rearranges the large sweatshirt he fell asleep in and follows Pepper into the kitchen. Peter, May and Rhodey are already awake, drinking coffee and eating breakfast, talking quietly about politics or something that Tony really doesn’t have the desire to care about.

“Morning, Mr Stark.”

“Kid, come on, call me Tony.”

“I should be the one calling _you_ kid,” Peter points out.

“Not gonna happen. It’s Tony or King of the World, to you, Spiderling.”

Tony pulls the mug of coffee Pepper gives him closer and drowns himself in the bitterness. It’s something to keep his mouth occupied while he considers what he needs to do with himself, and how he can stop whatever threat his mind is begging him to stop.

“Right,” he says, and then clears his throat. “Right. We need to get the old team back together. I’ll call around, get Cap and the gang in. We can fix this.”

“Oh, uh, Tony, that’s… not possible.”

Tony’s eyes snap up to meet Rhodey’s, who seems uncomfortable with having to share the news. He sits down on the stool by Tony and puts a hand on his forearm.

“Tony, Cap was tasked with taking the stones back to where they came from. When he was taking one back to the ’70s, he… uh. He didn’t come back.”

Stomach clenching in panic, Tony jumps up from his seat. Rhodey holds out a hand, warning Tony to calm down.

“He didn’t die. He stayed. He married Peggy.”

“He… what? What happened to Sousa?”

“Who?”

“Her… well, her husband. Wait… he _married_ Aunt Peggy? Doesn’t that mean he… you know, _fondued _with his own niece? Oh… Oh god. There are… that’s so…”

“Stop thinking about it. Stop it right now, cause I’m getting grossed out and I’d rather not be. Time travel is a messy business.”

“I can’t believe he’d just ditch. That’s so unlike him. He just… gave up?”

“I believe he described it as getting the life you always told him to get.”

“I didn’t mean by marrying his girlfriend's aunt. Jesus. How does Sharon feel about it?”

“Let’s please not focus on this. What I’m saying is that Steve is old now, and not going to be able to help.”

“He’s old? But… the serum should have made the process much, _much_ longer. He should be sprightly still.”

“Yeah, well, time travel.”

Tony is extremely confused.

“As for the rest, Clint is living with his family, Bruce is out of the game voluntarily, and as far as I’m aware, Thor is off exploring with the Asgardians of the galaxy.”

“Nat?”

“Oh, Tony,” Rhodey sighs.

Tony remembers with a slap that she died getting the soul stone, and he chokes back a sob.

“Jesus Christ. What a mess.”

“I can help get people together if you need it,” Peter offers. “I know most of the heroes around town. And out of town too. Deadpool, Daredevil, Jones, Iron Fist, everyone.”

“Meet a lot of people on the street, did you?”

“Met them after the school trip. Sometimes we’d fight together. Except for Deadpool. He just kept… showing up, randomly, and spent the pursuing hours annoying me.”

“Who the hell is Deadpool?

“Let’s not get into it,” Peter says. “I just mean I have contacts. Plus, Deadpool has connections to the X-men. He keeps saying they can’t be in our ‘movie’ because of ‘fox’ but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Almost never do.”

“Sounds like a crack-case, kid. Should you be hanging around with him?”

Peter shrugs.

Tony puts his face in his hands and tries to figure out what the first thing he should do is.

“Right. Well, I guess I have some calls to make and some news to share. Let’s get the Avengers point two up and off the ground. You in, honey bear?”

“You bet I am, Stank.”

~

Tony is sat on the bed, staring at the calling screen on Skype.

“You son of a bitch.”

Tony grins at Clint, who’s holding a kid in his arms and eating a slice of toast with his spare hand.

“I have several questions,” he continues. “First as foremost, why do you look like you’re still in high-school?”

“Extremis,” Tony says casually. “Lots of science stuff.”

“I’ll just take that for what it is.” Clint pauses. He sets the kid down with a suggestion to play outside and then he sits at the computer desk. “I’m… man, I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Tony takes a deep breath and begins to explain what’s going on. Clint looks understandably confused, and Tony tries to keep it as simple as possible.

“So, you’ve got a _feeling_, and you need help to stop it?” Clint repeats back.

“I need to know that I’m not on my own when whatever it is hits.”

Clint pulls a face, one that Tony can’t read, but he remains hopeful. He waits, patiently, while Clint contemplates.

“Stop that,” Clint demands.

“Stop what?”

“Damn puppy dog eyes. Quit it.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Bless you, you didn’t even realise. Jesus, Tony. I’ll be on call, OK? The moment you need me, I’ll be ready. But know that I can’t be in the thick of it like I was before. I have my family, and a promise to keep.”

Tony nods, accepting what he can get. He knows that asking Clint to help is cruel, but he’s limited in his options. After everything they all suffered through, every failure, every success, every ounce of pain. Tony can’t expect any more from Clint than what he’s willing to offer.

After a few comments about Tony finally being able to act his age, he hangs up.

“If you need anything, anything at all, Tones, I’ll help. It’s good to see you, man.”

With that, Tony takes a few moments to compose himself. He and Clint had never really been on the best of terms. For a while they got along, both sharing the same sense of humour and love of pranks. However, after Ultron, things were quick to turn sour, and they only worsened after the Raft. Tony had wanted to repair what was broken, not just with Clint but the whole team. Sadly, the only time they spent around each other in the aftermath was in the build-up to fighting Thanos and… well, that didn’t really leave much time.

Next, Tony calls Banner. He has to ring several times before the screen comes alive, and all he can see is the back of the giant green professor.

“Look, I don’t care what you want, but calling on this number is out of order and…”

Professor Hulk turns around and takes a step back, crashing into the desk behind him. He makes a strained attempt to stop everything from falling off and then splutters out confused words when his attention focuses back on Tony, who is sat with his legs crossed on the bed.

“Tony?”

“The very same.”

Hulk stares long and hard before laughing.

“Of course. Of course! Why would I expect any different? Tony Stark doesn’t just _die._”

Tony smiles and Hulk runs a hand down his face.

“Whatever you’re about to ask, yes. And before you ask, I’m coming to you. Where are you? The compound?”

Tony nods, and Hulk promises to be there soon. Within a few hours at least.

“Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it.”

“You’re alive, Tony. This is a miracle.”

With that, the line goes dark and Tony decides to wait. He can’t call Cap just yet. First of all, he’s not sure what he would say. If Steve is old and unwilling to fight, then all they have is words and time between them. Steve is possibly the worst person to try to speak to alone since they never seemed to have an entire conversation without difficulties existing between them.

“You OK?”

Tony jumps and turns to face Rhodey, who is suddenly standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Tony fights against the instinct to demand he leave his private space, but he squashes it and smiles up at his best friend.

“Yeah. Sure. Banner will be here later and Barton will come when we need him.”

“Is Cap coming?”

Tony shrugs, and then immediately busies himself with wrapping his fingers within the duvet. He hears Rhodey coming further into the room but doesn’t lookup. Looking up either feels like giving in or it feels like remaining in control, and Tony isn’t entirely sure which one is correct right now.

“Tony, man, what’s up?”

“Steve hates me,” he blurts. “He won’t be happy I’m alive!”

Rhodey’s shoulders slump and Tony immediately realises he’s being ridiculous.

“Whatever. I don’t care. He doesn’t hate me. We made up, right? Things are fine between us, and he’s had… he’s had a long life to get over my annoying presence. Not that I’d care if he didn’t. Doesn’t matter, Rhodey. I’m just… tired.”

“You haven’t been this insecure in years,” Rhodey hums. “Come on, we should call everyone else in too. You don’t have to call Steve now anyway.”

“No. Maybe I just won’t. He’s old now, anyway, isn’t he? He won’t be able to fight.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes and asks Friday to call Stephen Strange.

“Colonel,” Stephen says with a nod. “… Tony?”

“What’s up, doc?” Tony says with a lacklustre smirk. “Good to see you again.”

“And you. Though, considering you died, I should admit that I’m also quite surprised.”

“You didn’t see this coming?”

“I didn’t think to look for that,” Strange admits with a raised eyebrow. “Such things tend to not be as easily sought.”

“Well, look, we’re not calling to get re-acquainted,” Tony establishes. “We need help.”

“What with?”

“Well, I’m not sure.”

Stephen looks unimpressed with the admission, and Tony doesn’t begrudge him that. Getting a call saying ‘I need help’ followed up with ‘but I don’t know what with’ probably feels like a waste of time. However, Tony is hoping Strange understands the plea enough to set aside his annoyances.

“I just _know_ something is going to kick off.”

“I’ll be on call when it does, Stark. And then I want to discuss with you your circumstances of still being alive when I know you were dead last week.”

“Deal.”

Stephen promptly ends the call, and Tony has Friday call Scott Lang. The call, however, is picked up by a young woman.

“You’re Tony Stark,” she accuses.

“I am.”

“You’re dead.”

“Not anymore.”

“You’re cuter than I remember. Why do you look so young?”

“First of all, I resent that. I’ve always been cute. Second, I was young before. I’m just a little more on the younger side now than I was.”

“Right,” she drawls. “I’m guessing you want my dad? Dad!”

“Cassie, can you _not_ deafen me please,” Scott requests as he comes into view. “Who’re you talking to—oh. Mr Stark.”

“Mr Lang,” Tony returns. “I have a request.”

“Anything you want,” Scott stutters. “Anything. You’re alive! You weren’t before! That’s… wow. Should I come to you? Where are you? Should I bring the suit? Is it official Avengers business?”

Tony grins during the tirade of questions, and Scott seems to remember himself and pull himself together.

“We’re at the compound. Bruce will be here soon. I can fill you in then, or would you rather know now?”

“No! No, fill me in there. I’ll… I’m already on my way. Look. Jacket going on. On my way.”

Scott rushes out of the house without hanging up, and Cassie shakes her head.

“Bye, Mr Stark.”

“Bye, kiddo.”

The line goes dead and Tony feels like he’s on a roll. There are a dozen more people to call, and the strength of the nagging feeling that’s been ever-present grows.

“Fri, call Wilson.”

“Stark.”

Sam stares down the camera, looking caught off-guard.

“Sam, nice to see you again. How’re you holding up?”

“How… how am _I _holding up? Weren’t you dead? Oh god, has someone been messing with the time-stone? I swear to god if Lang has—”

“No, Sam, it’s not that. I was just resurrected through sheer force of will. You know how stubborn I can be.”

“This is insane,” Sam cries.

“What’s insane?” someone in the backgrounds asks.

Rhodey immediately steps in front of Tony, who flinches at the sudden movement. He’s trying to push Rhodey out of the way when the call drops and Tony’s shoulders slump.

“What did you do that for? We didn’t even ask him for help yet.”

“Let’s just get food,” Rhodey suggests. “Come on.”

Confused, Tony allows himself to be taken back into the kitchen. Rhodey doesn’t often interfere, but whatever it was for, it was likely to be worthwhile.

“Mr Sta— Tony. Sorry. Um, I’ve just got word from Deadpool that there’s been a record low of crimes since this morning.”

“That’s… oddly troubling,” Tony says.

“Not as troubling as how he told me. Look that this!”

Peter holds out his phone and Tony frowns.

“Is that entire thing in emojis? How did you read it?”

“Unfortunately, the more time you spend around him, the more his nonsense makes sense.”

Tony hums in response, mind jumping to thoughts about whether the sudden lack of crime and Hammers release are related. Only in his wildest imaginations could it be a good thing, because if Tony has learnt anything, a criminal who has stopped being criminal is simply planning to do something extra criminal.

“I’ve got ears on the street looking into it,” Peter says, “but I’m not sure what they’ll be able to offer.”

“Anything is better than nothing. Thanks, kid. Pass it on to your friends.”

An hour after lunch, when Tony is using Friday to search the internet for hints about this Deadpool character, and for anything that might suggest an underground uprising.

Deadpool is talked about extensively, and not kindly, either. Tony thinks that calling him a villain would be extreme, but he’s definitely _not_ the good guy. His absolute disregard for collateral damage is appalling, and Tony wishes he had the authority to demand Peter stay away from the guy. He’s psychotic.

As for the uprising; nothing. Reddit has its theories, many of them suggesting that all the criminals have been paid off by Stark Industries to deter them from crime which, well, Tony thinks is nice that they think so highly of SI, but it’s also naïve. Only a fraction of criminals are doing it for money to support their families. Those are the only ones who will stop if given the means to live without it. The others, though, they get a high from the fear and vindication from the violence. They won’t stop just because they’ve been offered money.

Other theories suggest that the criminals are merging together to form one big criminal, likened by many to the Power Rangers morphing together. It sounds cool, even if Tony never watched the show. However, if that _is_ what they are doing then it’s definitely a problem. Tony is determined to put up a fight no matter what happens, but he’s not sure he could take on every single supervillain.

But, didn’t they kill Thanos? Sure, they had the whole team together, but if they could do that, then surely they can all take down the same people they’ve been taking down for years, repeatedly? It’ll be hard, sure, but Tony has already died. He can die again if needs be.

“Tony?”

Tony almost falls off his chair. In fact, he does topple backwards, his arms waving wildly in panic, but he’s grabbed around the waist and pulled into a bone-crushing hug by something big and _green_.

“Bruce!” he squeals. “You’re making it hard to breathe.”

Bruce sets him on his seat and beams down at him. Tony smiles back, unable to stop himself.

“Good to see you, big guy.”

“Tony, you’re alive. You were _dead_. I saw you die. What’s going on?”

Tony leads Hulk over to the couch in his lab and sits down beside him. He launches into the story and they spend a lot of time discussing what it means, what Tony could survive, and how they could utilise the version of extremis running through his veins.

“I’m not sure I can—”

“Tony.”

Tony’s mouth snaps shut at the familiar voice, and his eyes widen. He doesn’t turn around, but his breathing grows laboured. Bruce looks sympathetic and puts a big hand on Tony’s shoulder, which damn-near forces him through the couch.

“Steve,” Tony chokes out.

He quickly rearranges his face into a smile and turns to find Rogers standing in the doorway of the lab, looking old and frail. His eyes are filled with some unfamiliar emotion, and he takes an aborted step forward, faltering suddenly and stopping still again.

“Looking your age, I see,” Tony jokes.

“Yeah,” Steve offers a careful smile. “Back at you.”

Tony gulps, unsure what to say.

“Well, this is nice. Our little team is getting back together,” Bruce says, clearly trying to break the awkwardness.

Steve’s eyes flicker up to Hulk and then back to Tony.

“You’re alive.”

“I am.”

“How?”

There’s an accusatory note to his tone, and Tony breathes heavily through his nose. He knew, _knew_ that Steve wouldn’t be happy to see alive, and he bites his lip to keep back the onslaught of anger that is bubbling in his chest. He stands up and walks over to his workshop table. If he wants to have any chance at beating whatever is coming, he needs to make sure the suit fits, and at the moment, it definitely doesn’t.

For a start, Tony is much shorter than before, and that’s not even the worst of it. He’s smaller in every way. No muscles to speak of, and worse, no facial hair. He looks like a child and being around the disappointment seeping from Steve makes that feeling so much stronger. So, he pulls up the suits schematics and begins to order Fri to take measurements of him so that he can start figuring out where to begin.

“It’s alright Steve, you don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to. I hate to get in the way of your Tuesday night bingo extravaganza and you probably need to be up early for the sexy nurse, eh? Didn’t even call you, so you can’t blame me for wasting your time, right? I was going to, sure, but you could have just said you weren’t interested so we didn’t have to meet face to face. Sorry to be a disappointment, but—”

Tony feels a lump growing in his throat and it’s notable in his words. He slams his fist down on the table and lowers his head.

“Just leave.”

“Tony, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll make sure whoever called you doesn’t disturb you again. No hard feelings, right?”

Tony hates himself for the weakness, but he can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes. Damn body, damn emotions, damn everything. Damn Steve for hating him, even after Tony thought that maybe they had made some effort towards reconciliation.

Not wanting anyone to see him being weak, and he’s _always_ been weak hasn’t he, he tries to exit the lab, pushing passed Steve. He doesn’t make it far, though, when he bumps into the chest of a newcomer.

“Sorry,” Tony mumbles, before looking up and scrambling backwards.

Bucky Barnes stands in the doorway beside Sam Wilson. He looks confused, but there’s regret written all over his face. Tony wipes away the tears and tries to look bigger than he is, but the sympathy in Barnes’ eyes cut him short of whatever he was going to say.

“Tony, we’re here to help.”

His vision tunnels and he feels trapped. Trapped between two super soldiers, and the doorway is blocked and there’s nowhere for him to go. He takes another step backwards, only to hit Steve. He jumps out of the way when Steve tries to grab him, and now he feels dizzy. He can’t seem to breathe, and he’s stumbling. He races clumsily to the safe room at the back of the lab, the sounds of people shouting garbled.

The door closes behind him and he curls up the corner, trying to make sense of everything, but making it worse with the spiral of thoughts dragging him down, pulling him relentlessly into the horror below.

“Boss, Rhodey wants to come in.”

Tony is shaking, but he can’t speak. A moment later, the tell-tale hiss of the door opening greets his ears and footsteps coming towards him. Footsteps accompanied by the wine of the braces Rhodey is wearing. The stop beside him, and then Rhodey reaches down and pulls Tony to his feet. A hand around his waist keeping him upright, and the other carding through his hair.

“Come back to me, Tony. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“S-steve, he’s h-here,” Tony gasps out. “He h-hates… hates me.”

Rhodey sighs and starts to lead Tony out, but he can’t keep Tony upright. His legs keep giving out beneath him. Rhodey shouts for someone, and a minute later he feels himself being lifted into arms too big to be normal. Bruce’s calming voice rumbles his chest, and Tony feels himself losing his grip on panic, and settling into something more similar to a half-asleep state.

Somewhere near him, he can hear Rhodey scolding Steve and Bucky for cornering him.

“You sent him into a panic attack,” he hisses. “In what way was that a good idea? Come on, Steve. Shouldn’t you at least know better?”

“I didn’t know he had panic attacks!” Steve defends, though there is shame and regret that lessens the impact substantially.

“Of course you didn’t. Never looked close enough after New York, did you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that he was a wreck. Built thirty damn suits and couldn’t sleep. Anxiety attacks every other day. He was falling apart, and none of you—you know what? Doesn’t matter. He’ll murder me later for telling you.”

And he will, Tony decides, but after he’s slept.

Tony wakes up feeling refreshed, which is new and welcome. He stretches out and then squeaks when he hands meet a person.

“You’re so cute when you’re waking up,” Pepper taunts.

Tony scowls at her and pushes himself upright, pleased when his body doesn’t present him with the aches and pains he’d grown used to with his old body. He yawns and rubs his eyes, batting Pepper when she makes jokes about him being an adorable toddler waking up from a nap.

“Oh God,” Tony groans when he remembers what triggered his impromptu sleep.

“Don’t,” Steve warns.

Tony’s eyes snap to his, cold and hard, only to be met with kindness.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think, which I know, _I know_, is just like me. I just wanted to offer an olive branch and I definitely went about it the wrong way.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Tony grumbles as he jumps up and heads towards the kitchen to grab a mug of coffee.

He’s about to take a swig when Bruce snatches it away.

“Bruce, what the hell!”

“It’s late, and your body isn’t able to take that much caffeine yet.”

“My body handled being dead,” he counters, reaching to try and grab the mug.

“Not the same, and you know it.”

Hulk downs the drink in one, smirking at Tony’s anger.

“Whatever. I don’t even care.”

“Gods, you really have always acted like a child, haven’t you?”

Tony turns suddenly to find Clint standing at the kitchen island. How Tony missed him originally is beyond him, but sleep is still clinging to the edges, so he can’t be blamed for his ignorance. He feels a swell of excitement, but before he can rush forward, he grips the island.

“Barton.”

Clint smirks and moves into Tony’s space, giving him a tight hug.

“We’ll put the past behind us, yeah?”

“Sure,” Tony agrees, relieved and melting into the hug.

“If you ever need me to babysit, Mrs Potts, feel free to drop him at the farm. I’ve got work that will put some muscles on this skinny kid.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Pepper grins.

“We should probably discuss the plan,” Sam suggests, as he walks in with Bucky behind him.

Barnes looks uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as Tony feels. He knows he shouldn’t blame Barnes for what happened. None of it was done of his own volition. He was mind-fucked by HYDRA, but it doesn’t make it easier to look in the face of the man who murdered his parents.

“I know it won’t mean much, but Hydra is completely out of my head,” Bucky assures. “The Wakandan’s made sure of that.”

Tony nods, unsure what to do with himself. He tenses as Bucky comes forward and flinches when he moves his arm out, but he’s simply offering a handshake, which Tony accepts. His eyes remain fixed on the metal arm, hungrily drinking it all in.

“Is that Vibranium?”

Bucky laughs, a bark of sound that startles Tony into taking a step back.

“You’re exactly how Steve described you.”

Tony sends a suspicious glance to Steve, who holds his hands up in surrender.

“All good things, I swear.”

“Sure,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Never had a bad word to say against me.”

“Let’s not,” Clint cuts in.

“Fine,” Tony huffs. “But Sam is right. We need to figure out a plan.”

“First, we need to know the problem.”

“Well, we don’t know what that is yet.”

“I do,” Peter announces, as he comes running in with May trailing behind him. “New York is under attack, and _everyone_ is out there. And I mean everyone. We need to form an army, and we might even need to invite Deadpool.”

Tony’s stomach drops as Friday helpfully brings up a live stream of the chaos ensuing across the city.

“Crap.”

**Author's Note:**

> Man, the news about Spider-Man staying in the MCU for at least two more movies has made my year, so I wanted to get this fic out here. I’ve been working on it slowly, but I finished the first chapter today.  
Hope you enjoy! Feel free to comment and leave Kudos (seriously, I love that stuff).  
Who else is PSYCHED for the next Spider-Man movie?!


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